


A Peace Offering

by tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (thanks tag wranglers!! we love you), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Arranged Marriage, Cyberpunk, M/M, Sort Of, Tributes, naked boy in a box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21607393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: When Tony Stark gets the mail--This is not what he was expecting.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 98
Kudos: 503
Collections: 2019 WinterIron_Holiday_Exchange





	A Peace Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plirio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plirio/gifts).



> Prompts: 
> 
> Post-apocalyptic AU. Where the avengers are one of the few organized communities left in the world, and, to Tony's absolute delight, Bucky is a new member of the community.
> 
> Arranged Marriage AU

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS said, “but the post’s come.”

Tony didn’t look up from the work he was doing; integrating the Hab’s shielding circuits was more important. Shield kept out the rakghouls. “That’s early by almost three weeks. Is there another war?”

“No, sir,” JARVIS said, primly. “I believe it is an Express.”

“For me?”

“Who else, sir?” JARVIS said. Tony could almost see him rolling his sensors.

“Huh. You got Post Man tucked up in a room for the night?”

“Yes, sir. He’s one of the EXO-7 Falcons. Mr. Sam Wilson, I believe.”

“Great,” Tony said. He shook his mind free from questions. “I’ll look at it later, gonna finish this repair now. Have him meet me at dinner.”

“His dinner time, sir, or yours?”

“Smart-ass.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but I haven’t got an ass to be smart with,” JARVIS said, with that particular huff at the end that meant he was done talking.

“Self-learning AIs,” Tony said. “Wave of the future for smart-mouthed kids.”

It probably wasn't too much later than most people ate when Tony finally extracted himself from the work. "Give that a go, Jay, and see what the tests show."

"An improvement by seventeen percent and a decrease in power utilized by twenty three and one third."

"It's going to have to do for now," Tony said. "It's almost Swarming."

"Yes sir," JARVIS said. "I have the season well marked on my calendar."

"See if Wilson is hungry," Tony said, "and I'll take the news, package, dinner, and bill in the war room." Tony didn't know where Wilson's allegiance lay; technically the post was supposed to be politically neutral, but that was as much bullshit as "non partisan press." The war room was specifically to show off the strength of the Avengers without giving an enemy too much of a look.

Also it was where the Captains tended to hang out when there wasn't anyone to fight. So, more flexing. Tony snorted. He hated politics. Quite honestly, after the human race had almost destroyed itself, he would have thought people might have learned better. But no. People were tribal, herd creatures, so they still formed communities, but once they had a community, everyone else was Other.

"I believe Mr. Wilson has not yet starved to death, sir," JARVIS said. "I shall let him know you are in your way. And somewhat informally attired."

"It's dinner, not black tie."

Great. One of _those_ , Tony thought. The sort of person who wanted a _show_ and expected to be lauded for his bravery. Admittedly, traveling though rakghoul lands did take a certain kind of bravery.

Or stupidity.

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tony said, throwing himself into a chair in the war room. “What’s for dinner?”

“I was thinking broiled and stuffed leader,” Steve said, not looking up from the holorecording he was studying. “With a side of Go Get it Yourself.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, like my dad always said, _shut up and get out._ I’m going to need this room. Got a post, express.”

“Right,” Steve said, gathering up his things. “I’ll let you open your mail all by yourself.”

The postal guy came into the room with a small holo-unit. “I’m going to need you to sign for this.”

“Where do you guys live,” Tony wondered. “You know, when you’re not delivering the mail and carrying news and stuff?”

“It’s a secret,” Wilson said. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Tony was pretty sure he was kidding. “So what am I signing _for_?” Most of the actual mail was drag and drop through drones, inside the Avenger’s territory. But none of the districts could really trust the other districts -- you never knew when someone was going to get infected with the rakghoul plague. Symptoms took some time to show up. Better to leave other people to their own devices, except for trade.

“Tribute,” Wilson said, holding out the device. Tony stuck his thumb on it, and the device whirred and beeped. 

“Tribute?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, really, I just deliver the packages. Bring ‘em in,” Wilson said.

Packages. Bring them in.

Tony stared as three of his own men brought in four good sized crates, all fitted with repulsor tech so that Wilson could fly them halfway across the country. “Where-- who sent this?”

“Hydra territory,” Wilson answered. “Took me almost four weeks to get here.”

“Where’s Hydra?” Tony wondered. “Hydra, Hydra… didn’t we go to war with them, like fifty years ago? My dad’s time? Or maybe my grandfather.”

“That’s not my problem, man,” Wilson said. “You signed, I delivered. Gonna go eat, an’ sleep, on your credit, and I’ll be out of your way about mid-day tomorrow, if you decide you want to send a reply or something.”

“Right,” Tony said. “Have fun.”

There was a holocard on the top of one of the packages and Tony flipped it open, curious.

The tiny person who popped up, flickering and stuttering to life, was no one Tony was familiar with. “Blow it up,” he told JARVIS. He hated looking at people the size of puppets. It gave one delusions. Even full-sized, the person was mostly unremarkable. Older, maybe in his seventh decade, with blond, well kept hair, and a well tailored suit.

“Mr. Stark, my name is Alexander Pierce, and I represent certain allied territories to the west of Avengers’ Tower. Namely, the Triskelion, New Germany, and the Floating City.”

So, he had old, outdated information. “JARVIS, update that info, I don’t know anything about this new guy, but if he’s allied the territories around Old DC, that’s important information.”

On the other hand, it was also possible that he was lying. People did that. Tony found it annoying, but it did keep happening.

“I will make a note, sir.”

“Your Tower is a beacon of hope in the north, and as such, we would like to begin talks. We have connected our three cities with a high speed, elevated repulsor train. We believe the system originated in your territory and was given, as a good-faith gift to the postal alliance. That said, we could use your expertise in keeping our system running. As a gesture of our interest, we have sent the tribute you see before you, acknowledging you as an equal partner. Our shared humanity must be a bond between us. We look forward to your response.”

“Jay, has this all been scanned-- no, nevermind, do it again,” Tony said. 

“I count mostly organic material, probably food stuff. No trace of the rakghoul virus. Luxuries. Textiles Some heavy metals, including-- sir, I am detecting a massive quantity of adamantium alloy.”

“Well, that might be useful,” Tony said. “All right, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The first crate was the usual nonsense; fresh or flashed fruits and vegetables, probably grown in stacking solar pods somewhere. Luxuries, for some territories, but Avengers was no longer one tower, but nearly thirty, and two of those were used for greenhouses and recycling.

Still, it was a friendly gesture.

The next box was silks and lace; industrial made, but not all territories had those, either. Pepper would know where best to utilize them.

A third box was alloyed bricks, twenty of them. No wonder the post needed repulsors; this crate probably weighed close to five hundred pounds all by itself.

Tony slid the locking mechanism to one side and removed the lid of the final crate.

And found himself staring at a naked man.

“Oh.” 

***

Bucky Barnes came to some awareness of himself; he was warm, he was laying down, and he was chained to the bed.

Someone had removed his arm.

It wasn’t -- entirely -- an unusual way to wake. 

He could sense the presence of another person in the room. Breathing a bit deeper brought the following information; male, third or fourth decade, drank quite a lot of coffee, and the real bean at that.

The air was circulating, and didn’t smell overly full of chemical deodorizers. 

There was food in the room; fresh and unprocessed. Beef, potato, butter.

“You don’t have to pretend,” the man said. “JARVIS let me know you were starting to wake up more than ten minutes ago. I’m bored now.”

“Didn’t ask y’ to wait, darlin’,” Bucky drawled. He opened his eyes, sat up. He found himself on a small, but comfortable, bed, dressed in a white tee and soft grey pants.

He took a long moment to study the man across from him. Medium height to a little on the shorter side, slender but wiry. Thick jointed, long fingers with a smudge of oil across the knuckles. Something mechanical -- he was a cyber -- in his body, there was that faintest tinge to the veins in his throat. He was handsome, a neatly trimmed beard, a symbaratic mouth, a nose on one side of too large, but it looked good on him. Dark brown eyes, smile wrinkles, black hair going grey.

“You’re remarkably calm for someone who just woke up in chains,” the man observed.

Bucky shifted a bit; the cuff circled his wrist, connected to a thin chain, which went up to his throat and then out to the wall. “Didn’t want to scare you,” Bucky said, which was pure bravado. Chain this thin, holding someone like him? Even if the man across from him was a complete fool -- and Bucky had no illusions about that -- no one would trust their life to something so frail-looking, unless it was more than it appeared. Sometimes the wall would give way before a chain like that.

He fingered the chain, twisting it around his wrist. “Nanocoated. What’s it do?”

“Emits a short-term paralytic burst,” the man said. “Doesn’t hurt-- much. Although you’ll feel like you’ve got a damn hangover after. But you can’t move, can’t talk. Autonomic functions are unimpaired.”

“Handy,” the man said.

“Yeah, my dad made it,” the guy said. “And then his business partner used it on me, so believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Stark,” Bucky said, nodding. Well, it made sense. 

“You know who I am, good, that’ll save time,” Stark said. “And I know who you are, so don’t bother to introduce yourself. You’re James Barnes, formerly Howling Commando, but also, an assassin. You killed my parents.”

Bucky gave a single nod. That was true. “I did.”

“And Hydra sent you to me, helpless, as a peace offering,” Stark said. “So, I’m wondering-- why?”

“And your plan is to ask me?”

“I have more plans than just one,” Stark said. “I thought I’d start with the simplest, most readily available. Why are you here?”

“I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

“Start with the truth. You can make up a pretty lie later, if it makes you feel better.”

“You know I would lie, if I thought it would help me. You can’t trust me. I’m here to be executed,” Bucky admitted. “In the hopes that doing so will be more effort than it’s worth, and that I’ll be able to cause rather a lot of destruction in the meanwhile, perhaps even killing the head of Avenger’s Tower Complex.”

“Run that by me again,” Stark said. “Expand on the concept of _execution_.”

“I’m malfunctioning,” Bucky said. “A tool that doesn’t work isn’t of much use. Better to throw it away. If you can throw it into the enemy’s engines, isn’t that one last, best use?”

“If you believe people are tools, perhaps,” Stark said. “You’re here, then, because Hydra is still my enemy. And they believe that if they gave me to you, you would die. In essence, getting me to do their dirty work for them.”

“And I, being who and what I am, would possibly kill or wound you, cripple your defenses, cause unchecked mayhem in the process of trying to escape.”

“And, in case you didn’t know this, probably destroy my alliance with SHIELD, because your old pal, your best buddy, Steve Rogers? Is the Captain of the guard.”

Bucky lowered his gaze. “It’s a good plan,” he admitted.

“So, as I’m disinclined to assist Hydra carrying out its dirty work, tell me how you are _malfunctioning_.”

Bucky shrugged, feeling weird in his body without his arm. One shoulder going up, the stump just hanging there, uselessly. “My loyalty chip is corrupted, but they can’t remove it without damaging the things that make me useful. My successor-- I’m outdated and I’ve been replaced. That my loyalty to Hydra is in question, that I’ve been breaking and disobeying orders…”

“You disobeyed an order,” Stark repeated, “with a corrupted loyalty chip?”

“They told me to kill _children_ ,” Bucky said, trying not to remember it as anything other than a mission report. 

“Commendable,” Stark said. “And this--”

“Caused me to start questioning orders,” Bucky went on. “And recovered personal memories. I was chip-locked. What I did-- those things that I did. I did them. At the time… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought, I was told, I _believed_. That I was making the world a safer, more orderly place.”

“And they lied to you, boo hoo,” Stark said, vaguely mocking.

“They took all my memories,” Bucky went on. “I was a clean slate, before every mission. Believing what I was told because it was all that I knew.”

“Why not,” Stark said. “Let’s say I believe you. What’s _your_ plan?”[]

Bucky scratched his chin. “Assumin’ I live through-- your plan?”

“Assuming that I set you out on the edge of my force shield and let you go, what are you going to do?”

“Do I get m’ arm back?”

“If you require,” Stark said. “It’s a piece of crap, you should let me build you a new one.”

Bucky couldn’t quite control his expression. “Largess was not something I was assuming.”

Stark waved his hand. “Carry on with the plans,” he said. “You have your arm, you’re free to go.”

“I would go back to Hydra,” Bucky said, slowly, watching Stark’s face intently. “And burn every motherfucking one of them to the ground.”

“You may well get your chance,” Stark commented idly. “Do you have anything more than that?”

“I have codes, and I know the system’s weaknesses. I can get inside, through the heat ducts underground. I’ll start with Pierce and work my way down.”

“You’ll die,” Stark said.

“Probably.”

“They’ll take control back, your command words.”

“You know about those?”

“I’m familiar with the concept, call it a lucky guess,” Stark said. “And some insider knowledge. I have an ally in another friend of yours. Natasha Romanov.”

“The Black Widow?”

“You remember her? That’s good. She remembers you,” Stark said. 

“So what’s _your_ plan?”

Stark gave him a soft, knowing smile. “I’m going to give you the opportunity. But in the meanwhile, I need you to stay close to me, and I need an excuse to do it. I’ll have to fix your arm, work on your mental conditioning, take care of you. I don’t want you down among the people, if you’re going to blow a gasket.” He tapped at his chest for a moment. “All right, sunshine, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make a _drastic mistake_. You were shipped to me naked, along with silks and laces. Congratulations, you’re promoted to my husband. As a sign of good faith with Hydra. To make the treaty. Eventually, they’ll invite us over to their territory as a final attempt to assassinate me, and we’ll wreck the place.”

“You want me to pretend to be your--”

“No pretending. Consider it a political marriage, if you have to.”

“You’re _insane_ ,” Bucky decided.

“Not at all, buttercup. Despite what people think, I always know what I’m doing. But I have this reputation, and you are _very_ beautiful. People expect me to take advantage of that for my own pleasure. And I can be counted upon to pleasure myself. So, you’re my husband. Great. JARVIS, call Pepper, tell her I’m getting married this afternoon.”

“Of course, sir,” a disembodied voice said. “Felicitations.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

“You gonna ask me,” Bucky asked, wondering at his own daring, at the-- spark of _something_ that went off when Stark said marriage. “Or are you just fiating the decision?”

“I’ll get you a ring, too,” he said. 

“I will set the fabrication units to work at once, sir,” JARVIS volunteered. “It will be ready by your nuptials.”

“There. Ring, you see.”

“You still ain’t asked me, yet, Stark,” Bucky said.

Stark went down on one knee, graceful, and took Bucky’s hand. “Will you marry me, James Barnes?” It was romantic, despite everything, and Bucky couldn’t help but lean toward that heat, couldn’t help but feel some comfort in the light touch.

Surprising himself, Bucky said, “Yeah,” without hesitating. 

“I think you can call me Tony--”

“I will.” Bucky used his grip on Tony’s hand to haul him in. “Sealed with a kiss.”

And he kissed the man; he intended it to be a simple press of his lips to Tony’s mouth, but he erupted into flames as soon as their lips met. He opened his mouth and Tony took advantage, willingly meeting him, pressing closer to him, devouring him. Their tongues slid together, exploring, tangling, tasting.

When Tony pulled back, his eyes were wide, soft, pupil-blown. “I’ll say,” he said. “Right, that’s great. We’re uh.”

“Going to get married, form an alliance, and wipe Hydra off the face of the planet,” Bucky contributed.

“And uh, schedule in some time for more of the kissing stuff,” Tony said, his cheeks darkening.

“Good to see I still got it,” Bucky murmured, and drew Tony in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is just a set up to a much longer idea, but if my giftee really likes it, I would not be adverse to continuing this one
> 
> ** for those people who play Star Wars: the Old Republic, you'll notice that I borrowed the rakghoul virus from that AU


End file.
